


The Interlude

by zycroft



Category: Montmorency
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-17 02:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zycroft/pseuds/zycroft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unseen interlude between Montmorency and Vi during the search for the Bag Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Set in the Marimion during Book 2, Montmorency on the Rocks. Vi's grammar is canon. Please forgive me, but it had to be written that way to stay true to the character.

In all his years both before and after his imprisonment, Montmorency had never known a woman the way he’d come to know Vi.

In his youth, just before falling through the skylight and ending that part of his life, he’d visited more than one house of ill-repute to satisfy a curiosity that didn’t diminish with each visit, but rather, grew. He’d lain with every type of woman and found he loved the feeling of each of their bodies under his equally.

His experiences at the Scientific Society had embarrassed and horrified him beyond comprehension. Being on display was unbearable for him, made worse that he was on display just so everyone could see the monstrous scars crisscrossing his body. After leaving prison, he couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing his flesh for any reason, and therefore, he hadn’t been with a woman since before his fall.

He knew what Vi did with the men she brought home after the opera; he wasn’t disillusioned or ignorant of her past. He couldn’t say for certain if she’d ever entertained the men she or her mother had brought home when he’d been living there, and he wasn’t about to ask her. He of all people knew the importance of keeping one’s past to one’s self.

Scarper had heard some of the Marimion staff comment on what a handsome couple he and Susanna made; he wondered how he and Violetta must look to passersby; those who didn’t think them cousins, that is. A glance in the mirror at either pair made his heart race with excitement and another, more foreign, feeling that he couldn’t name. Whatever it was, he laughed harder, smiled more easily, and loved life even more when they were together.

Sometimes, after a day spent shopping or searching Kew Gardens for the Bag Man, he lay in his bed at the Marimion and wondered what it would be like to lay with her the way he’d lain with the women before prison.

Would her skin be soft? Would she giggle if he touched her bosom? Or gasp in pleasure? Horror? He longed to find out, and as he took himself in hand, he banished reality and gloried in the thought she would find his body as desirable as he did hers.

The day after he’d taken Mrs. Evans’ drug, he lay in bed shaking with shame. Fox-Selwyn’s words echoed in his mind and he cried anew each time he imagined his friend’s face painted with disappointment. He didn’t respond to Vi the whole day, and felt worse for what she had to endure between he and her mother in a prison he’d made. More luxurious than where he’d spent three long years, but still a prison.

When Doctor Farcett cleared him to resume the investigation, he set out to redeem himself once again. As they drew their pictures of the Bag Man, he was happy to see he could still make her laugh and the mirth in her eyes as he and George set out for Kew Gardens warmed him during the brisk boat ride.

The day’s events were a blur, and that night’s celebration had him in higher spirits than he could ever remember. The champagne flowed and the laughter filled the room. Montmorency’s success was better still for Scarper’s lack of involvement, and he toasted as boisterously as Fox-Selwyn and Vi with each new round.

At the end of the night, he made his way into his room and collapsed on the bed, still in his clothes. He was exhausted and proud and had never been so happy in his life. He sat up and removed his jacket, vest, and cravat. He began working at the cufflinks, but his coordination had gone with the champagne. He tore at his cuffs and broke free, discarding the tattered shirt on the floor. Perhaps Mr. Lyons could repair it, though he didn’t know what excuse he could make to his tailor for the condition of his clothing.

A knock at his door startled him just as he leant down to remove his boots. It was most unseemly for anyone in the suite to call on one another after saying goodnight, and he worried that someone were sick or hurt. In his haste to discover what was the matter, he flung the door open wide and greeted his visitor with a slightly panicked “Yes?”

“Oh!” Vi exclaimed, turning her head quickly. “I’m sorry,” she said, and turned to walk away.

“Vi? What’s going on? Is everything alright?” He was still worried, though her reaction reminded him of his nakedness and he now held the door mostly closed, his body concealed at an angle behind it.

“Everything’s fine,” she replied, still walking across the sitting room towards her own little room.

“But Vi? What is it then? Vi? Talk to me. Get back here, please.”

She slowed, then turned and made her way back to his door, her eyes fixed on the deep carpet of the Marimion’s lavish suite.

“I just thought maybe you’d like to continue to celebrate, is all,” she said a bit shyly as she stood in front of his door. She glanced up quickly, a fierce blush making her cheeks glow, then looked back down, though she surely must have seen that he was well-hidden by the door now. “Just the two of us, I mean,” she continued.

Montmorency was ashamed by both his nudity and his immediate, depraved interpretation of what she’d said. He remained quiet for a moment, then realised she was waiting for a reply.

“Uh, sure. Sure. Just give me a few moments and I’ll be right out,” he stammered.

“Oh, I didn’t mean out here,” she replied saucily.

Montmorency gaped stupidly and shook his head, not in denial but as if he were trying to rid it of insects that had gotten in somehow. Vi smiled a smile he couldn’t interpret and said, “So what do you say?”

And then she was in his room and he was more frightened than he’d ever been in his life.

She reached for him and he shied away, worried she’d feel the scars he hoped she couldn’t see by the low light of the candle across his room. She reached again, and her hands fell on his shoulders. “Can I have a kiss?” she asked.

He couldn’t meet her eye and was still backing away, hoping to extinguish the candle before this nightmare got any worse.

“What are you so shy for?” she asked. “Don’t you like me?”

“Er, I like you very much, Vi,” he responded, a bit of his normal voice coming back. “I just don’t think this is a very good idea. Maybe you should go to bed now.”

“Oh, I plan to go to bed very soon,” she said, and he blushed equally at her lewd tone and the suggestion. “I think you should go to bed, too.” She reached behind her and began unbuttoning her dress.

“Don’t, Vi!” he was beyond panic and unable to see a way out of the situation. “Vi, please. Please, just leave me be and tomorrow we’ll pretend this never happened.”

“I thought you said you liked me. You said you liked me very much, and I know I like you very much. Let’s show each other how much we like each other.”

“I want you to leave now, Vi.”

“Is it your scars?” He started as though another bomb had gone off, this time much closer. “I don’t mind the scars. I never have. I’ve known about them for a long time. I used to watch you in the bath when you lived with Mum and me.”

He was horrified at her confession and unable to respond. His mind was loud with white noise and he thought he might be sick. He wasn’t aware of the tears making their way down his face, or that he’d turned away from her. When she put a comforting hand on his back and he felt the weight press on the dead, twisted flesh next to his spine, he sobbed.

“Come to bed, deary,” she said softly, and guided him to the bedside.

She sat down facing him, and he stood there dumbly as she removed his boots. He followed her cues and held her shoulders for support as she removed his socks. He stood before her in just his trousers and felt her eyes searching his body for any sign that he wasn’t the weak, broken man he must look like.

Quite contrary to what Montmorency thought he knew, Vi was taken with the way the candlelight radiated around his body. She was mesmerised by the way the shadows danced over his strong muscles on his arms and shoulders, and titillated by the pools of darkness flickering along his sides.

She reached for his belt and he gasped as the backs of her hands brushed against his abdomen. He was shaking as she drew the flaps of his trousers apart. Her hands traced both the living flesh and the livid scars on his legs as she pushed his pants down. She did the same with his underwear, and he obediently stepped out of the last of his clothing.

Her gaze held his as she resumed unbuttoning her dress, and he stood statue-like as she rose to let it fall at their feet. She reached behind her again, her sharp shoulders painting an exquisite portrait as her hands twisted behind her, and then her corset was loose, her bosom spilling over the top. She pulled the garment away from herself, and he felt the lace graze his skin as she dropped it on top of her dress. She hooked her fingers into her underwear, then pushed them down, bending slightly to get them past her knees. Her hair tickled her skin as she straightened, and he let out a harsh breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

She sat down on his bed again, but held a hand to his abdomen when he moved to join her. She leaned forward and, without warning, took him into her mouth. He cried out in surprise at the sensation and his knees buckled as she sucked on his hardened penis. He placed his hands on her head in an instinctive move to keep himself from falling, and tried to withdraw himself from her mouth.

She held his hips firmly in her grasp and drew him deeper inside. She bobbed her head and he looked down at her in utter amazement; he’d never had a woman do this before, had never even considered it was something that could be done. He was repulsed by how dirty it was, and thrilled at the way it felt.

She slid her tongue under his foreskin and swirled it around the head of his penis, then bobbed her head up and down on him again. He felt his knees weakening and when he tried to tell her he was going to fall, all that came out was a strangled gasp. She continued to bob her head and he fisted his hands in her hair, trying to push her off him.

She pulled away and looked up at him while licking her lips. He panted heavily and moved to the bed, where he didn’t so much as sit down but rather fell in a boneless heap beside her. She stood and crossed the room. As she reached for the candle on the windowsill, he envied her confidence in her nudity while also wishing the light weren’t behind her, obscuring his view.

When she turned around, he felt his body jerk at the sight of the soft candlelight bathing her smooth skin. Her rounded breasts hung from her body and her rosy nipples pointed at him invitingly. He wanted to taste them, taste all of her, and marvel in the way her skin felt against his.

She set the candle on the table at his bedside and asked him to lay down on the bed. As he positioned himself, he felt more self-conscious about his scars than he did his erection, and tried to nestle into the covers to hide as much of himself as possible. She watched him intently while he did this, and his embarrassment grew.

“You are so beautiful,” she said, then gave a small giggle. “I suppose it’s silly to call a man beautiful, but you are, you know.” She sat down beside him and ran her hand down his chest. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” she confessed, “ever since I met you. I always fancied you, you know. When I would watch you bathe, I’d imagine you falling asleep in the bath and I’d come in quietly and take the sponge and wash you. You’d wake up and thank me, then give me a kiss.”

She leant down and kissed his nipple and his surprise at how it felt nearly unseated her. She laughed, then kissed the other.

“Vi,” he began shakily.

“Shhhh,” she lightly silenced him, then took him into her mouth again. He called out in pleasure, a formless sound that ripped from his chest unbidden.

“D-d-don’t do that, Vi!”

“Too naughty for you? Doesn’t it feel good?”

“F-f-f-feels too good,” he admitted.

She lay down beside him and ran her hand down his chest again. “What do you want to do, then?” she asked.

“I want to touch you,” he replied a bit primly. Without waiting for her response, he tentatively reached out and cupped her breast. He rolled the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then craned his neck to take that hardened nub into his mouth. Her sigh encouraged him, and he flicked his tongue repeatedly while holding her gently between his teeth. He pulled her down next to him and explored her skin with his free hand as he sucked her harder. She was moving against him and his penis twitched in response when her sex brushed wetly against his hip.

She took him in her hand and his head fell back against the pillow. He was leaking fluid and it felt as if his skin was on fire. He bucked against her hand, and she pressed her sex against his hip in response. She started to stroke him, then moved her hand down to the heavy sac between his legs. Her dainty fingers tickled the hairs there and she ground against his hip harder. He could feel the wetness from her coating his skin, and he thought he would go out of his mind with desire.

He rolled over onto her and thrust inside without warning. She thrust against him in return and his mind reeled; the women he’d been with before in bed had always just lain there while he moved inside them. But Vi was moving her hips counterpoint to him and it was very wet and thrilling and his face must have betrayed his thoughts because she smiled and he fell deep into the little death while holding her tight against him.

When his shaking had subsided, he withdrew from inside her and she unconsciously tightened herself around him. He withdrew with a wince, then looked into her eyes. She was smiling, but her expression indicated pain rather than pleasure.

“Vi?” He asked worriedly. “Vi, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“Oh, no,” she answered vehemently. “No, not at all!”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she responded, though she sounded a bit petulant. She stood and began gathering her clothes in her arms.

“Where are you going? I thought you’d stay here for the night.” Panic was returning at the thought of her leaving the room; he wasn’t ready for their interlude to end and wanted to hold her in his sleep.

“Not a very good idea, I expect,” was her simple answer.

He rose from the bed and clutched her arm just below her elbow just as she reached the door.

“Vi, please don’t go.”

She shook slightly under his touch and he pulled her flush against him, the flawless skin of her back against his gnarled chest. He folded his arms around her and she shuddered.

“What’s wrong, Vi. Tell me, so I can make it better.”

She remained silent and tried to step forward and out of his grasp. His arm brushed her nipple and she shuddered again.

“So that’s it, is it? You weren’t done.”

She didn’t answer him, but allowed him to take her clothes from her arms, tossing them into another careless heap on the floor. He cupped her breast again, and lightly twisted and tormented the protruding flesh there while nuzzling his nose against the impossibly soft skin on her neck. His tongue darted out momentarily, and her body stiffened in surprise before melting more solidly against his again.

He drew her back to bed and lay down on top of her, kissing her lips, her cheeks, the small hollow just below her ear, and the taut skin over her clavicle. He slid down her body and took her breast into his mouth again. He fondled the untasted breast with one hand and placed his other at her entrance. She was very wet and he wondered how much of the moisture was from his own release inside her. The thought gave him a thrillingly dirty jolt and he felt himself hardening again.

He moved his lips to her other breast and focused his hands’ attention on her sex. He combed his fingers through the fine spray of hair on her mound, then pushed a tentative finger through her folds and into the hot moisture. She writhed under him and spread her legs further apart. Emboldened by her response, he added a second finger and mimicked the movements he’d made with his hips earlier. She ground against his hand, soft whimpers interspersed with formless pleas and he thrilled to make out the word “penis” from her lips.

Fully hard again, he took himself in hand and rose above her, carefully aligning their bodies to push inside. She gasped at the sight of him before her, and he saw her pinch her own nipple between her delicate fingers.

He entered her more gently than before, but she set a furious pace from the first stroke inside her. He was unused to a woman’s participation in the act, and wondered what she was getting out of this the other women hadn’t before. He held her tight against him and thrust into her as deep as he could, a bit taken aback at the ache he felt deep inside but determined to continue until she reached whatever end she so desperately sought.

“Touch me more, please,” she breathlessly panted in his ear. “It feels so good when you touch me.”

He rose up a bit and traced a finger around one of her nipples. She increased her motions below him and her breathing ripped from her in harsh pants. He leaned down to take the rosy bud into his mouth and as he sucked, he felt her body buck once under his, then a second time. He pulled away from her breast in alarm, and then she convulsed under him in rapture. He marveled at the sight of her in the throes of her orgasm and continued watching her until she seemed to settle into a deep sleep. He started to withdraw from her, but she clamped her hands around his back and held him to her. She opened her eyes and smiled.

“Aren’t you going to finish?” she asked, sauciness creeping back into her voice.

“Er, well,” he fumbled, unsure how to answer. “I – well, I don’t think I can, to be honest.”

She gave a small laughed and released her hold on him. He withdrew tentatively, as though afraid he’d hurt her, and then lay down beside her. She rolled against him and let him wrap his arms around her, then gave him a tender kiss.

“Are you sure you can’t finish?” she asked quietly.

“Yes,” he replied simply. His voice was slightly strained and she would have put it off as tiredness, but there was an undertone she couldn’t ignore.

She reached down and took him into her hand, giving a gentle tug with a twist at the top of the stroke. He stiffened against her and gasped loudly.

“Vi, don’t do that!”

“Does it hurt?” She really wasn’t sure.

“No, it doesn’t hurt, Vi.”

“Then it feels good?”

“It feels good, but it doesn’t feel good enough,” he gently explained.

“What would feel good enough?”

“Nothing.”

“What if you did what you used to do in the bath? That looked like it felt good enough.”

He looked at her in horror and she laughed. “Go on,” she encouraged, pulling away from him. “Make yourself feel good.”

She pushed the covers off him and rested on her arm, her elbow planted into the pillow below them.

Montmorency gulped and closed his eyes. Steeling himself, he rolled onto his back and took himself into his hand. He gave himself a firm pull, then brought his other hand down to tickle the hairs on his sac as she’d done earlier. He was hard and leaking and didn’t think he could finish but was desperate to try.

He turned and looked at Vi, but her gaze was on his hand. As he stroked his burning flesh, he studied the way her eyelashes brushed her cheeks when she blinked and the way her dimples deepened when she licked her lips. He thought about her taking the most intimate part of his body into her mouth and his hand sped up. He paused to roll his foreskin down, then resumed his ministrations. She was breathing heavily and he loved the way her bosom rose and fell while his shadow danced across it in the candle light. She continued to lick her lips and he fixated on the way they glistened.

“Would you,” he began hesitantly. “Would you, er, that is-” He didn’t know how to finish the question and looked away. He looked down the line of his body and watched what he was doing, thinking about a much younger Vi watching him do the same years ago, unbeknownst to him.

“Back then, did you bring men home, or just your mum?” He was appalled to hear the words fall from his mouth and his hand stilled.

“Just Mum,” she replied easily. “I watched them sometimes, of course, but I didn’t do nothing,” she elaborated.

“I was sure I wasn’t going to do that kind of thing with anyone I didn’t love. After you left, and then Mum got sick, we didn’t have any boarders most of the time, and I kind of had to sometimes. Since you’ve come back, I wasn’t sure what I thought, so I tried it with the other ones,” she said, motioning towards the door. “It was the same as with the opera men. I thought maybe that’s how it would always be, but I wanted to know for sure. And now I do.”

“You did this with Robert and George?” He was alarmed, but the thought was arousing in its own right. His hand unconsciously resumed its motions, and she watched him.

“Oh, yeah. Twice with Robert, cause he’s always so sad and it seemed to cheer him up a bit. And Lord George,” she continued, “well, he’s big enough to crush me, so I couldn’t do it normal with him. I had to sit on his lap when he was laying down and then he touched me a lot while I sorta bounced up and down on him. It was nice, but it never felt anything like the way I’d feel when I touched myself after watching you in the bath.”

He looked down to see himself stroking his erection and a stream of clear fluid running down his length to meet the join with his hand. He looked back to her and increased his speed.

Closing his eyes, he softly asked, “And did you do with your mouth to them what you did to me?”

“No, I didn’t do that!” She exclaimed. “I’ve never done that before!” She gave a small laugh.

“Then where did you learn it?”

“Some of the girls I know have talked about it. They say men love it and it’s a very special and taboo thing.”

“Then why did you do it to me?” his voice was strained and his erection throbbed in his fist, his hips rising off the sheet in small thrusts. Vi was moving cautiously down the bed and never took her eyes off his hand.

“Because it’s supposed to be special, and I wanted to do something special for you. I’ve always wanted to do special things for you. I always knew you was different, and I think I loved you even then.”

She closed the distance between them and took him into her mouth again. He was still fisting himself and she sucked in around his exposed head, her tongue gently playing against the folded skin below his crown. His hand sped up and she felt him swell in her mouth, then her mouth was flooded in spurts and she increased the suction so she could swallow the bitter liquid down.

He was panting and she lay her head on the ravaged tissue covering his thigh. He tugged very gently at her hair, and she turned back to him. He had tears on his cheeks again.

She settled down next to him and laid her head on his chest. His heart beat a fast but steady cadence in her ear, and she smiled. “I was hoping that, since you’re back and it isn’t the same with you, maybe I wouldn’t have to do it with anyone else anymore.”

He tightened his arms around her in a quick embrace, then let go.

“I’m sorry, Vi, but I can’t ever get married. It just isn’t for me.”

“Married? Who said anything about getting married?” and her tone made it clear she held the same derision for marriage he did.

“Well, er, you did, didn’t you?” he asked innocently.

“Heavens, no! I just meant maybe we could do this with each other instead of other people.”

“I, well, Vi. I haven’t done this with other people. Not in a very long time, anyways.”

“Really? Good looking man like you? I’d think lots of women would want to do that with you! Must be those high society types you associate with. Those women wouldn’t know what’s good if it were laying in their bed next to ‘em.”

He chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her again.

“I’ve never known a woman like you, Vi.” He kissed her temple, then drifted off to sleep with his arms still cradling her to him.


End file.
